Myanmar (No Juju, just Aire)

Myanmar is not only a land less traveled compared to other countries in Southeast Asia, it was my first solo vacation and it was during the Christmas/New Year’s holidays. So you can imagine how I was feeling after dropping Julia off at the airport on Saturday for her destination family reunion in Japan. Sunday was spent cleaning (worrying about whether or not this food or that food will rot or expire while we're away, worrying about unplugging all electric appliances, worrying about making the place presentable for a landlord visit that will happen the day after we both get back from our vacations), packing (worrying about bringing things that normally Julia brings like medicine or a hairbrush, worrying about forgetting the necessary documents to apply for my visa or get my room reservation), and reminding myself that I can absolutely do this and there’s nothing to worry about (yeah right). As perhaps an ode to my mother, or maybe a subtle reminder that this is actually who I am and not something I can blame on my parents anymore, I arrived at the bus station over an hour early. That hour was spent mentally preparing myself for the day to come. Here’s the plan: After the overnight bus to Bangkok gets in at 7 am, I go straight to the Myanmar Embassy, where I apply for a same day tourist visa (do I have my two 1x1” passport photos? Do I have my application? Do I have proof that I’m leaving within 24 hours?), then I wait until 3:30 pm when I can pick it up and immediately get a taxi to the airport for my 7:35 pm flight to Myanmar, where I get a taxi to my hostel and call it a night. Of course while trying to avoid being overcharged on any taxi rides, exchanging US dollars for Myanmar kyat at some point, and trying not to get lost on the way to any of these places. But first, a subzero temperature bus ride due to the unnecessary pumping of AC and maybe some dinner if I can stomach it.

Anxiety is a funny thing. It’s also something that, despite the multiple PSAs and psychiatrists and friends telling you you're not alone with the voices in your head and the panic in your heart, the majority of people I meet in life actually don't get it. They don’t get it as in they don’t feel that way and they don't understand someone who feels that way. So for those who maybe haven’t experienced the feeling of constant anxiety (which is often coupled with other psychological factors like developing a fear of going outside or interacting with others, the most common pairing being depression), I’ll do my best to open up and describe just how crippling it can be and the power it can have over a person’s life. And for those who do in fact know a bit about the constant struggle to overcome the childlike desire to run and hide and give up because you’re not good enough, or the voice in your head that reminds you of all the mistakes you've already made today, then I hope I do the feeling justice and I hope you'll be able to relate.

For me, it’s something that I forgot about until my solo trip. I didn't realize that traveling (or just existing) with Julia quiets my anxiety. For obvious reasons, like knowing I can rely on another person when things are stressful or scary. But it’s also because there’s an even more powerful outside force reminding me of the good I can do and the things I can accomplish to counteract the small but seemingly overwhelming inside force that insists that I'm no better than a speck of dust.

Luckily for day one, I had an exact schedule to follow, so it was only a matter of go go go. It was a huge success in the end and I sailed right into Day 2, which was Christmas Eve in Yangon. A couple travelers and I set off to explore the city, which started with the morning market. In addition to the produce, meats, fish, and typical Asian market foods, the central market also sold the most random collection of crap you've ever seen. It would be like if I took all the leftovers at all the garage sales in the world and threw them in one bin with barely any order. There was also the typical questionable food items, but at least this time with the seafood, there are actually rivers and lakes nearby (unlike in India where I wasn't sure where they were getting their fish from and also why they felt it wasn't necessary to put them on ice). After trying some Burmese milk tea for the first time, which tastes like a combination of Thai tea and chai tea, we headed towards the train station to take the Circle Line, which costs $1 and takes you around the outskirts of the city for about 3 hours. It’s a train that locals use, so this would be like going to California and using Amtrak, except of course it’s much more old school, people can get on and off while the train is in motion, and the locals are much more likely to stare at you.

It was waiting for this train where we met Samuel. Let me tell you about Samuel. Samuel’s an elderly Burmese man with fairly advanced English skills who is clearly a former government employee. He somehow has a knowledgeable yet severely biased and malformed view of the world; someone who has perhaps studied the world, but not seen it. He knows a lot about American politics (beyond “Obama,” which is the most common response I receive when I tell people I'm from America. “Where you come from?” “America” “Ah, Obama!” *smiles and winks, has nothing else to say, walks away*), clearly aware of current global issues, and obviously intelligent enough to have solid opinions about controversial subjects. Yet he told me I must not be “pure American” because I didn't have blue eyes (and, I'm assuming, blonde hair). And throughout the ride he continued to ask each of us whether or not we liked “negroes” before scrunching up his face in disgust (I gotta tell you, it’s weird having to seriously answer that kind of question. I mean what do you say, yes I have no problem with negroes? When the real answer is, well I can't really say as to whether I “like” or “dislike” an entire complex and widely varying part of the human race. The things I “like” are Ruffles cheddar cheese potato chips and waking up in the morning before my alarm goes off, so I'm not sure I can adequately express my feelings on “negroes” with a yes or no answer.) Anyway, that’s Samuel, and with the help of Samuel we were able to find the World Peace Pagoda, which happened to be filled with monks reciting their oral examination when we came upon it. Each station had one monk murmuring passages from the sacred Buddhist texts, another writing something down (assessing the first monk in some way), and a third reading along to ensure accuracy. The giant meeting room is inside of a man-made cave and is supposedly where monks from all over Southeast Asia gather every once in a while to conference about monk stuff (with rough translations from Samuel of what the Burmese monk was saying, I wasn't able to catch everything, so give me a break here).

The actual stupa is across the way and was in a peaceful and remote area, which meant casual staring from locals. But the staring in Myanmar is different. It’s a comfortable sort of staring. It’s difficult to describe what it’s like, but I can tell you what it’s NOT like. It’s not the kind of staring that objectifies women or makes you feel like you're there just to be their entertainment. It’s not inquisitive, it’s not intrusive, it’s not vacant, but it’s not constant. It doesn't make you feel like a celebrity, but it doesn't let you feel completely at home either. It’s a novel kind of staring. And sometimes when I can tell they want to speak to me, but are holding back for whatever reason, they'll buy a snack from a passing vendor and then they'll share it with me, which happened multiple times throughout my trip. It’s how I got to try these little marzipan balls, some sort of delicious tamarind flavored treat, and even the rare Myanmar bean (turns out it’s a peanut, but isn't “Myanmar bean” just so much more fun and mysterious).

The next day was Christmas and I think this exchange with my parents during the Skype call that morning pretty much summed up the day:

Dad: Are people doing Christmasy things there?

Me: What do you mean? Like we're saying “Merry Christmas” to each other, but that’s about it.

I decided to spend the day doing the main sightseeing in Yangon, which started with a bus ride to Aung San Suu Kyi’s house (a prominent leader in Myanmar’s Democracy movement, considered a female heroine to the people in her fight to overthrow the current dictatorship, and has been under house arrest as someone "likely to undermine the community peace and stability" on and off since 1990). Pulling the ignorant tourist card (something you only get one of in each country but is widely abused by all backpackers), I had no idea that the recommended visit to her house was her actual house in which she is still being detained and all you are allowed to see is the iron gate in front. Perhaps from afar you can even catch the barbed wire above the concrete wall. I decided to wander into the thicket of grass that surrounded the house where I came upon two young girls who told me to follow them. I wasn't sure 100% where we were going but after wandering through some mud and bushes, we came across an abandoned two-story house. It was a curious place with a beautiful view and some cutesy graffiti reminiscent of the paintings found in pagodas. After hanging out there for a bit, I eventually met the rest of the family, shared a few snacks and was on my way to the Reclining Buddha. It was one of those experiences that felt uniquely Myanmar and reminded me of why, through all of my research, visitors repeatedly said that it’s the people that make Myanmar what it is. This sounds like a “duh” statement, but I personally wouldn’t say it was the people that made Vietnam one of the most amazing trips I ever took, and it isn't only the people that make Thailand such a peaceful getaway of a country. For Myanmar, with an oppressive government, only recently opened borders, and miles and miles and miles (and miles) of pagodas, it’s the random family that offers you their water and snacks, it’s the motorcycle taxi driver that tells you about his goal to earn and save money so he can go to college, it’s the local who talks about what it’s like to be a monk, it’s the kids who decide to hop on your bike and take you around the city just because they want to hang out with you, and it’s the vendor that explains what it’s like to sell something that everybody else sells in a part of the city that doesn't get many visitors; that’s what makes Myanmar.

Saving money on this trip meant a lot of walking and taking public buses, which is often my favorite part of traveling, because it’s when you get to see the heart of a city; things you'd miss on the inside of a taxi. Motorbiking is actually my favorite way to get around, but motorbikes are banned for tourists in all of Myanmar and banned for everybody in Yangon (there are numerous rumors about why this may be, ranging from the mayor of Yangon’s car getting hit by a motorbike, to a drive-by shooting on a motorbike, to just plain and simple trying to make Yangon a less congested city). Because I promised my mother I would eat, and because I hadn't yet had anything since the free breakfast, I stopped by a random roadside food stand. I love these things. They're everywhere in Asia and they should absolutely be a thing in America. They're the essence of the idea that food brings people and the combination is what makes a place come alive, because they're only made up of a compact stand on wheels and plastic stools and tables. They're more temporary than a restaurant, but more inviting than a single stand. And in Myanmar, it’s a given that you're allowed to sit there and only order tea and you can stay there for hours just talking. The only downside of course is that places like this cater less to tourists, so they can’t speak any English and they don't have any pictures for me to point at. After the waiter rattled off the menu, I heard one of the food items was “khao soi” which is a delicious noodle dish in Thailand so I went for it (of course, it didn't end up being this dish at all, but it was still delicious). The portions are HUGE in Myanmar. Almost every meal comes with 3 to 6 sides, includes soup, tea, and heaping piles of rice, and all of these are bottomless. For one meal, I had all of this AND they set down a full rice pot that—not exaggerating—could easily feed a family of 6, in case the head-sized mound of rice in front of me wasn't enough. The only thing you're paying for in the meal is the meat or vegetable you choose to go along with all of this. Another small reminder of how caring and giving the Burmese are, I asked if they had any water and after the kid waiter said no, he ran to a nearby store, bought water, and sold it to me for the same price, smiling the whole time.

After having the privilege of traveling to multiple countries in Southeast Asia, something like this astounds me. That never happened and probably would not happen in, say, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, or Vietnam. So at first it seems like the kindest act in the world. But when you really think about it, you realize it’s the kind of hospitality that comes about when people are just being decent people. Whenever someone would go out of their way to show me how to get somewhere, I knew that I would most likely do the same for anyone visiting my city as well. The novelty comes from meeting people who are being kind just because that’s a decent thing to do as a human being. Is that depressing, humorous, or inspiring, I don't know. But there’s something about being on the receiving end of unwarranted hospitality that reminds me of how much of it is lost in the world. To play devil’s advocate with myself, why should other well-traveled countries cater to the mass tourism that comes into their country? I’m not blaming anyone for NOT dropping everything to help yet another lost tourist on their way to a site where they'll objectify the culture under the guise of appreciating it. All I’m saying is that my visit to Myanmar was a reminder of what it’s like to give and to care for others just because one can. It’s something I live by and hope I always remember to have as a first priority.

The Reclining Buddha is about 72 yards in length (to compare, an American football field is 100 yards) and a height of 100 feet (I did that weird length measurement because of the football field comparison). My favorite part is that I happened to visit it while they were cleaning it. I’m not sure if this information is entirely correct since I got it from eavesdropping on a nearby tour guide’s conversation with a worker, but it supposedly takes 3 days to clean and they only clean it once a year. In any case, it was an awesome sight to see a bunch of tiny monks cleaning a giant Buddha. I had a lot of fun capturing them standing on each of the Buddha’s fingers, or cleaning out the nose, or wiping down the eyeball.

Finally, I went to the famous Shwedagon Pagoda (not world famous, Myanmar famous) for sunset, where I learned about a branch of Buddhism derived from Hindu Brahmanism that I'd never heard of. It’s centered around your day of birth. When a tour guide first asked me what my zodiac animal was, I told him it was a horse. He laughed and shook his head with an added, “Americans” comment before explaining that there are 7 animals for each day of the week plus Rahu. If you're curious about your animal:

• Sunday planet rides on a Galon, the Myanmar name for the Pali Garuda, a mythical bird (the symbol of Indonesia Airline), who is the eternal enemy of the Naga (Dragon).
• Monday planet rides on Tiger.
• Tuesday planet rides on Lion (that’s me!)
• Wednesday planet rides of an elephant with tusks.
• Rahu's planet rides on a tusk-less elephant (tusk less elephants are believed to be more powerful than elephant with tusk).
• Thursday planet rides on rat.
• Saturday planet rides on a Naga (Dragon).
• Kate planet rides on an "Animal of five beauties, a mythical animal with the antlers of a deer, the tusk and trunk of an elephant, the mane of a lion, the body of a Naga, and the tail of a fish.

Sometimes there’s a Friday and sometimes there isn't. I got the day and the animals down but after that it got a bit confusing. As per custom, I went to the Tuesday corner where I poured water over the Buddha image. The Shwedagon Pagoda clearly encourages people to hang out there with an ATM, water, a bathroom, large open spaces, shade and sun, and most importantly, free wifi. In the day time it’s more of a family picnicking area than a temple. And since it was one of the few times I was actually able to seamlessly connect to the internet, I was there for quite some time.

After sunset, a group of us decided to have a big hearty dinner in honor of Christmas, which ended up being my most expensive meal on my trip ($10). It was also the last and only time I drank beer on the trip since it’s relatively expensive compared to other drinks, including avocado smoothies, which only cost a dollar and taste like fatty avocado-y heaven. One of the unique things about traveling in Myanmar is the backpackers you come across, which most agree are of a higher caliber amongst the fratty beer tanktop neon short beer-toting boys of Asia. Since the country has only recently opened its borders, tourists are much more international as well. I often found myself being the one person representing America in a group of 10-15 people, who each were the solo travel from their country in turn. At one point in the night, I was at a table sharing a round of beers with one person each from Canada, Australia, Denmark, Italy, Switzerland, Israel, Ireland, and Holland. No two people were from the same country. I joked that we could have our own UN meeting then and there, to which someone responded that it truly is “like the UN because everybody’s white.” He was kind of right in that observation at least; there were only two of us who weren't 100% white and well I mean we're both still pretty white.

The next morning I had to depart for the bus terminal, which to me was yet another hilarious adventure that is best told in person. I set off at 7am, paper in hand that has the Burmese numbers for bus number 43 (Another moment when I had a glimpse into what a country is like before its boom in tourism, since those numbers will definitely be Arabic numbers soon, if not next year). The first bus I see seems to have the same symbols so I ask the conductor if he’s going to the bus station and he half-nods and quickly ushers me on. Any confidence I had from thinking I got on the wrong bus flew away when 1. I looked at the bus numbers of passing buses (read: interpreted unfamiliar squiggles to try to gain meaningful information) to find that almost every bus had the same two symbols that I thought meant 43 and 2. After about 15 minutes of riding along, the conductor came up to me with a casual, “Soo…where are you trying to go again?” (obviously it was more disjointed and confusing than this, but it was enough to dismiss any hopes I had of ending up where I wanted to go). He eventually drops me off in a place I can only describe as a little to the left of the middle of nowhere. Really just dirt road and two guys staring at me wondering why I’m there. I turn to one of them and ask how to get to the bus station and they send me to a motorcycle taxi who drives straight for 5 minutes and drops me off. Still not sure that I’m even remotely close to the right place, I walk in the general direction that he grunts towards and as I go, people keep asking, “Where are you going?” and then smiling and pointing in the same direction. So as my confidence grows, there are more and more “Where are you going?” followed by basically a “Yep just keep doing what you’re doing!” *walk two steps* “Where are you going?” “Yeah still the same place” “Cool yeah so just keep going straight!” Despite this I inevitably get lost and it takes me another 20 minutes to find a random terminal where a guy decides to lead me to the correct bus. This place is HUGE and there seems to be zero order to the chaos. But as he’s leading me, more and more guys start walking with us until there’s a group of 5 guys surrounding me taking me to the same place. I almost wanted to tell the paparazzi not to take pictures, it was hilarious. If you ever want to be a celebrity, travel to remote parts of Southeast Asia.

Anxiety was a very huge part of this entire experience, which is probably partly why I found it so humorous. It’s not just about having a fear that you won’t make it to the bus station. It’s about trying to remind yourself that missing the bus is the worst thing that could happen, because that fear is actually the least of your worries. Anxiety has a way of taking something quite small and easy to cope with and rolling it down a hill until it has compounded into something way too large and way too heavy for you to carry on your own. When I'm with another person (i.e. Julia), this is fine. Because the other person can remind you that the immovable and insurmountable boulder that you see is actually just a squishy ball or an empty balloon and all you need to do is stuff it in your pocket or pop it to make it go away. On my own however, it’s much more difficult to see it as a squishy ball or empty balloon.

And the grass is always ALWAYS greener. When things aren't in my control, such as being on a bus or other form of public transportation, it feels like, “If I could only just get control over the situation. If I could only just walk.” And if things ARE in my control, it’s a feeling of, “What kind of dumb move was that, this is within your control and you just made a terrible decision. Way to go, if only you could just be in a situation where you don’t have to make the decisions.” We all have different coping mechanisms;  mine boiled down to two strategies: 1. Repeat to myself the realistic worst thing that could happen, because it’s never as bad as my brain is making it out to be and 2. Give the voice in my head a timeout and make it stand in the corner. After binge-watching the TV series Dexter, who calls his need to kill his “Dark Passenger,” I decided to follow suit and give the voice in my head a name, which is “The Talk.” Because it’s all talk, no action. It’s just a bully, and it won’t stop me from doing what the logical part of me thinks is right. I learned from this trip that that voice is never louder than when I am in a completely new environment and I am entirely alone.

Like all train and bus stations in Southeast Asia, there were tons of vendors coming up to people and selling their snacks, drinks, or homemade products. There were also a few nuns asking for money. What I found interesting was that none of them would go up to foreigners, which is the complete opposite of other countries, which only harass foreigners, especially if their children. I’m pretty sure soon enough, they’ll see the benefit in tapping into the hearts of visitors. But for now, it seems they are simply too shy.

I had already heard that it would be difficult to find a guesthouse in Bagan if you didn't already have a booking, but I also heard that if you tell one of the taxi drivers at the bus station that you don’t have a place to stay, they’ll take you around and help you find one for a set price. So when I got off the bus, that’s exactly what I did. How awesome is Myanmar for letting a tourist say, “Yeah can you just take me around for possibly hours and ask all of these places if they have an available room because I didn't have the foresight to book ahead?” and not only welcoming that, but also charging the same price that they would if I gave them an exact destination. AND on top of all of that, they directed me to the person who would be cheapest, which is a cycle rickshaw. They always did that. 3 times I arrived in the city, told them I didn't have a place to stay, and they directed me to the cheapest form of transportation, who then charged me the same price in every place ($2). I got really lucky in Bagan because the boom in tourism has completely overshadowed the availability of hotels, except of course government-run properties, which are incredibly expensive compared to independently owned guesthouses. We finally found a hotel that asked if I would be willing to share a double room with someone and we could split the price. Actually what they specifically asked was, “Can you stay with a roommate? Does she have to be Japanese?” I had to stifle a laugh when I said no they can be anyone. They have so many Japanese tourists that are actually from Japan, so many people working in the tourism industry either know or are learning Japanese, more so than English, Chinese, or German (which I've found is necessary in Vietnam). Combine that with the fact that they cannot understand how I can be part Japanese but not from Japan and you've got me in close quarters with an actual Japanese woman who only speaks Japanese, but hey, it was $10 and I had a place to stay for the night.

The next morning I rented an electric bike and set out towards Old Bagan to see the many, many, MANY temples in the city. I had a general idea of where I wanted to go since there are really only 3 main roads and 3 main places you can be in Bagan. Even someone like me would have trouble getting too lost. There are so many temples in Bagan though that the maps use dots to represent a temple and they are just covered in dots. It’s stressful at the bigger or more popular temples because there are bound to be hawkers, beggars, and other things to get your money. But with so many temples to choose from, the chances of you coming across a temple where no one is around for miles are pretty high. Even during high season, most of my day was spent exploring temples alone. I learned from the first temple I went to that was a bit further out that you can almost always go onto the roof if you find the narrow stairs inside. They’re always steep, they’re always dark, and they’re always only big enough for one person to walk up or down. When I got to the top and looked out, it was astounding. I guess I didn't realize just how many temples there are in Bagan. It looks like something out of a fairytale (I’m seriously waiting for Disney’s next movie to take place somewhere in Bagan, after Moana of course).

After driving around for a bit, I stopped at a temple to watch some men play chinlone, which is similar to hacky-sack but with a small wicker ball (in Thailand, it’s called sepak takraw). I asked if I could play for a bit and while we were kicking the ball around, some kids came up to watch. When I decided to leave, the kids just hopped up and followed me, asking “Where you go?” To which I responded, “…Where are YOU going?” And they said, “Where you go!” After a moment’s hesitation, I shrugged and said why not, so one of them hopped on the back of my e-bike and the other two rode their regular bicycle and we spent the rest of the day going wherever. I felt like Snow White with 3 dwarves eager to show me random temples and walk through various uncharted territories. After a bit, they thought it would be easier for one of the kids to sit in the front of my bike as well as one on the back. If you've been anywhere in Asia, you see this all the time. But here’s a picture to give you a better idea of how I might have looked:

I knew it was a funny sight since I clearly looked foreign with my clothing and my sunglasses (not to mention the bike was obviously a rental with its huge sign on the front), with a kid in front, a kid in back, and a kid close by on his bicycle. I got plenty of laughs and smiles from locals and foreigners alike. I also thought that it was adorable that the kids would switch after every temple. Someone else would sit in front, someone else in the back, and someone else would take the bicycle. At one point we stopped to grab food at a random place by the river with tables set up in the sand. They served two things: fried something or other and sugarcane juice. It was nice having the boys around to finish my meal, making that meal the only one I ever finished during my entire trip. After a few more temples, we went to the boys’ neighborhood, which as it turns out is right behind the temple where they found me. I met the family and their adorable puppies and soon found out that the whole community is a lacquerware community. It seems like each neighborhood has a specialty where every person has a part in the process. When it was time to go catch a sunset, one of the boys, Kungk (pronounced something like “Gongo”, although I never could pronounce it correctly), asked where he could meet me tomorrow and I laughed and asked him how we could possibly do that. Bagan may look like it has many landmarks for the kids, but there’s no way I could go to the same temple twice unless it was one of the main 5 or 6. I was surprised to find that he looked a little disheartened, since I figured he could just meet another tourist the next day. But then I remembered that earlier they told me they were on a 10-day school break and when I asked them what they like to do during break they looked at me and said, “this.” I caught yet another beautiful sunset and head back home before it got cold (it was probably only like 60 degrees, but being used to 80 degree nights, that’s cold).

The next day was more of the same, although there are hidden discoveries inside each pagoda. About halfway through the day, I accidentally came upon the same spot that I had met the boys the day before and as I drove by, they recognized me. I felt like I was in a movie scene as I screech to a halt and they run across, we all high five, and they immediately jump into their positions on the bike. It was hilarious. It only took two pagodas after that for me to feel like I’d had enough so I told them we could go wherever and they decided to go to the river behind their neighborhood. As you walk towards the river, the ground gets muddier and muddier and your feet sink lower and lower with each step. But it wasn't until I took a step and sunk all the way down to mid-shin that I decided I should probably put my camera away. It occurred to me that the mud sort of felt like the kind of expensive mud that one would find in high class spas in the middle of nowhere. Yet another example of the weird dichotomy of finding what the first world deemed as expensive and worth hundreds or thousands of dollars in abundance behind a random neighborhood in another country. You can wade all the way across the river without the water getting past mid-thigh, so I rolled up my leggings and slowly waded across as the boys did random races and splashed about in the water (in their jeans). After a few hours, we went back to their homes, where I learned more about their schools and the things they sell.

I feel like every city has a thing in tourism that they've decided helps them to sell more stuff. In Siem Reap, after asking where you’re from, they would rattle off the current leader, capital, and national language. Sometimes the children would repeat a phrase in 5 different languages, like “hello lady would you like to buy my stuff, see how many postcards I have” in Spanish, French, English, Japanese, and Khmer. India, being the king of harassing tourists, has multiple strategies, the main one for kids being following you around for miles at a time. Well, the children of Bagan would always take out a set of 5 hand-drawn postcards on flimsy white paper. They were adorable in that they were very clearly drawn as a child would draw them, as if someone encouraged them to stick with simple shapes and coloring outside the lines. I thought it was hilarious and adorable, but I found out from Kongk that their local community has them create these postcards (modeled after real postcards, not from their imagination as I had hoped) to help raise money for their school.

The adults have another way of getting you to come to their shop. The strange thing about being a victim of their schemes to sell their items is that I’m not as prepared to say no. India being the first time I've really traveled abroad, I learned from the best how to shut someone down and not get sucked into their selling game. But in Myanmar, everybody is so genuine and the country is still so young to tourism that it doesn't seem like they’re tricking you the minute they talk to you. As a result, when they DO trick you, it takes you that much more by surprise. After helping you park your bike, they’ll usually follow you around the temple, giving you an unwanted tour. When they sense that you’re uncomfortable (like one time when a lady was giving me a tour and then suddenly stopped and said, “Don’t be agony. I can tell you agony,” which as an English teacher I thought was an interesting vocabulary word to know when the grammar was still elementary), they’ll tell you to stop by their shop on the way out and then leave you to tour the rest of the site on your own. If you thought maybe you could slip out a back way, grab your shoes and your bike and leave without them noticing, well they thought you might do that too, and they've taken the liberty of moving your shoes from where you left them and safekeeping them at their shop. If they do manage to convince you to buy something from their shop, they’ll give it to their friend at a nearby shop to wrap up your items. While that friend is putting your items in a newspaper or bag, they’ll try to get you to buy THEIR stuff also. Of course your shoes get passed around as well until you finally have to actually yell no for them to let you go with all of your belongings.

But they’re still so very honest and genuine that I actually learned a lot about their process and superstitions. For example, after a certain amount of time, it doesn't really matter if they sell an item for a profit. If they haven’t sold anything all day, or worse, for several days, it becomes more about breaking the ill luck than making money. On multiple occasions, the vendor would tell me they really need to sell something because they haven’t had customers in a few days and they’ll get so desperate that after pitching an item for 20,000 kyat ($20), they’ll finally say, “Okay 4,000 kyat, I get no profit. Please.” Through this practice, I was able to learn the true price of almost all the standard items sold in Bagan, which are lacquerware products, sand paintings, and longyees. After selling the item, they’ll fan out the money and proceed to hit every item with their money fan, explaining to me that it’s good luck to do this with their first sale of the day. All of this may sound like yet another elaborate scheme to make money, and in India I have no doubt it would be, but it’s clear that it’s genuine, at least for now. So genuine in fact that I was actually able to understand where the trite phrases of, “I give you good price” and “Come just looking, no buy, just looking” come from. In other countries when someone says that to you, there’s 100% an ulterior motive and they are probably 90% lying to you. In Bagan, it was obviously true. The girl I bought my longyee from used the “I give you good price” on me and actually explained to me “In the evening I sell for 20,000 or 30,000 but in the morning I sell for only 10,000 or 15,000. So I will give to you for 8,000. I give you good price” and when I asked her if the color would immediately wash out she said, “No this is good silk. I would not lie to you.” Keep in mind these are all lines I’ve heard on multiple occasions from plenty of people who are definitely not giving me a good price and absolutely lying to me. But she was right. I never saw it anywhere for cheaper and it’s actually really good solid silk, better than many things I’ve bought in Thailand. It’s a different world in Myanmar at this very moment and it’s surreal and wonderful to have been a part of it.

So as you’ve probably guessed by now, I bought way too many souvenirs in Bagan. I usually never buy souvenirs while traveling, but I realize it’s because I always had someone else to share my experiences with. When traveling alone, all I have are my pictures and my words. Having a souvenir makes it more real and memorable when I’m alone because I have something tangible to show someone. Luckily the cheap transportation and all day bus rides allowed me to stay exactly on my budget of $40 a day, but it also meant I no longer had any wiggle room (which of course led to more anxiety, but breathe in, breathe out, it will be okay).

After Bagan was Mandalay. Not many people stop in Mandalay during a short trip because it’s just another dirty city that isn’t defined by any particular charm or site. Much of the sightseeing in Mandalay happens outside of the city and can be done in a day. Due to the fewer tourists, I was treated even more like a celebrity in Mandalay than anywhere else in Myanmar. As per my attempt at spending less money, when I first arrived I decided to walk everywhere, since everything within the city was only about 3 km away max. As I started heading towards Mandalay Hill to catch the sunset, a share taxi asked me where I was going. When I told them I was going to walk, he just pointed me in the right direction and continued to get other people on board. A few minutes later, the same taxi pulls up and he started yelling, “Taxi free! Get in!” My first response was disbelief and a “Why?” and he responded, “Because I want to help you.” After the sunset on the 2 km walk back, a motorcycle taxi offered me a free ride as well. This time, in the most non-creeper way possible, the “why” was “because you are very beautiful” (except he asked and answered the question himself). He even added a tour. “Here is palace,” which takes up about a third of the city and is equivalent to pointing out the ocean while at the beach; “Here is Café City” which was just a random shop where he could happen to read the giant neon sign; and my favorite being, “Here is foreigner” and “Here is foreigner.” He offered to give me a free tour around Mandalay the next day, but funny how that is much less appealing than someone making me pay for a tour.

Mandalay could easily be the next Bangkok and arguably would be already if it weren't for Myanmar being closed off until recently. The streets are laid out in a grid pattern, which makes it even easier to get around than in New York. In addition to the usual building and street number, a hotel or restaurant’s address can be “between 82^nd and 83^rd street,” which are the two streets that are on either side of the block.

To be completely honest, the sights of Mandalay were more of the same, but because it’s closer to an untouched city in Myanmar (as compared to a tourist city), I had more experiences that gave me a tiny insight into what a place is like before a tourist boom; that is, before anybody or anything there has to cater to an economy that thrives off of tourism. Throughout Myanmar, but especially in Mandalay, I got the feeling that it would be weird taking pictures. After traveling to places where pictures are encouraged and welcomed, it was strange going to a place where it felt like taking a picture would be like going to my home town and taking pictures of strangers going about their business. While in Thailand, capturing a monk in meditation or a farmer out in the fields is quite common, it’s obvious the people here aren’t used to their daily lives being a spectacle to strangers. It’s a short jump from looking at tourism in this light to comparing it to the paparazzi; something that you know is somewhat invasive, but you don’t realize just how much until you see the beginnings or ends of it (but let’s face it, the paparazzi is never going away).

I had even more of an experience related to the strangeness behind tourism at the end of the day when I was catching the sunset at U BeinBridge, the longest teak bridge in the world.

This is what I looked like:

And this is where I was:

 And I guess that looked like a very picturesque scene with a Burmese woman in front of a signature Burmese bridge during a beautiful time of day because not one, but two people took a picture of me from a distance and I just didn't have the heart to tell them that I was American. As you the reader may already know, I’m always mistaken for looking like a local in southeast Asian countries, but I've never actually had someone take a picture of me because of it. But more in Myanmar than anywhere else, probably partly because I didn't have my token white person with me, people constantly asked me where I was really from because I don't look American at all. I've come to categorize those people into three groups. So in order from least to most common (which happens to be least to most annoying): 1. People who are just genuinely curious about where I might be from since I look like I can be from anywhere. I tell them I’m American and, satisfied with the answer, they go on their way. 2. Someone will ask me where I’m from, I say America, and they tell me that I look mixed. I smile as a response and this is followed by a pause as they expectantly wait for me to explain why I’m mixed if I’m from America, or maybe what my background is, or anything that will satisfy their question as to why I look Asian if I’m not from Asia. Depending on my mood or how many times I was already harassed about it that day, I’ll tell them I’m half Japanese or I’ll just say, “yes” and continue to smile. Usually that’s enough and they’re finally on their way. 3. The person who refuses to believe that I’m American. “Where are you from?” “America” “Mama, papa? Where are they from?” “America” “No but where are you really from?” “Yup. Still American.” “You look Asian.” “Yes well I’m half Japanese.” “Ah okay see” *proceeds to speak to me in Japanese, “Sorry I don’t speak Japanese.” *confused look* conversation ends. My favorite of course was when the guy then asked me where I lived and when I said Thailand he sat back and said, “Ah yes, you look Thai.” The worst and most annoying part is that once someone has an answer that’s good enough for them, they don’t bother to hear anything more. Any kind of clarifying details as to why I look Asian but am actually from America. Or why I live in Thailand but that has zero to do with my race. Once they’ve got their answer, they’re set. Some days it’s funny, some days it’s tiresome, but it’ll always be kind of fun to confuse people. Because it’s not like I don’t get it. There are many homogenous countries in the world where a person of mixed race would stick out, Asian and European alike. Plus even if we’re just looking at America’s representation in international entertainment and media, most of it is a white person. If we’re going to play a “who’s your celebrity doppleganger” game, I really only have a handful of Asian celebrities to choose from, more now than as a kid but I was always inevitably Lucy Liu. So I’m not saying I don’t get it or that I wish it would stop, I’m just hoping to bring the perspective of a mixed race person to the table, to show how travel looks like from someone who is still white but not quite white enough.

The food in Myanmar was interesting. In some ways it was like India, where they often didn’t have what was on the menu, or you’ll be surprised by what you ordered. My favorite experience with that was when I ordered Avocado Salad while in Inle Lake and what came out was a heaping pile of guacamole. Nothing else. No chips, no bread, not even rice, which I thought about ordering as a side because if you’ve ever tried to eat just straight guacamole, trust me when I say it’s not nearly as delicious as you might imagine. It’s just an endless paste where the bites towards the end was just me telling myself, “Okay one more you can do this.” Part of me wanted to tell them that if they added chips and sold it as Guacamole rather than Avocado Salad, they’d sell out in a heartbeat. And the portions are HUGE. And this isn’t just me who’s used to Thailand’s tiny portions where many people have to order two meals to satiate themselves. This is like American portions X2. In Shan state, the only thing you’re really paying for is the meat. The rice and the various sides, which are endless and plentiful, come with every meal. When breaking down the food overall to a friend, I came up with the ratio that about 1 in every 4 or 5 times, the food was out of this world delicious and unique. 2 in every 4 times, the food was ordinary and plain. And 1 in every 4 or 5 times, the food was of “what did I just order” status.

Something uniquely Myanmar was that every single hotel I stayed or looked at, no matter the quality, served a free breakfast. It was clearly a standard of hospitality throughout the country. Even the cheapest places set you up with some toast, eggs, coffee or tea, and some fruit. It was not only a wonderful way to save money, it made me fall in love with the place that much more. Not because it’s free food, but because I feel like it sums up the way the country is at this moment in time; “Of course we’re going to provide you with something to start your day. Of course we’re going to provide you with this small token of our appreciation for your using our service. Of course.”

After a few days biking around Inle Lake, catching the last sunset of 2013 drinking wine overlooking a vineyard in Burma, taking a touristy boat tour, and spending the last of my dollars to get one more delicious meal, it was time to say goodbye. I took a bus ride from freezing Inle Lake to bustling Yangon, which every time we pulled into a rest stop, the bus driver would play a recording that I swear would say “We are now stopping the bus so you can rest your sex” every time. Reflecting back on my time while waiting in the airport, I realized two things that I had anticipated about Myanmar that weren't true: the power never went out where I was staying, and there were banks and ATMs EVERYWHERE (all research about Myanmar emphasizes that it’s near impossible to find ATMs and all the money you’ll use, you need to carry into the country with you). And while listening to an ad in Burmese that was selling shampoo by parodying Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” the power went out.

Singapore

It's that time of year again! Considering the 1 daily view our blog has had these past few months (hi Mom), I think it's about time we get another entry in. And as I've probably repeated too many times before, nothing gets me in the mood to write about our travels quite like some homemade Vietnamese coffee. Bringing me back to good eats...beautiful views...cheap travels...except wait, nothing here is cheap, everything is actually really expensive. I can't afford to eat! Where am I going to sleep?? I thought I was in Southeast Asia, my safe haven for getting a lot for a little, my go-to for people who are poor but still want to travel (i.e. anyone in their 20's). But we're in Singapore now, a country that Laura aptly described as "roughly the size of this table," a thimble on the tippy-tip of Malaysia. But with such a small size, its economy couldn't be more opposite. Booming ahead early in the game to rival all surrounding cities with its ports, it now sustains itself entirely through its marketing since it has no natural resources to fall back on. It's consistently ranked as one of the least corrupt countries in the world, which is quite impressive given its location; it's a dot of yellow in a sea of red.

One of my favorite quotes from our trip was about the red light district and how it thrives in Singapore: "The Singapore government said what you cannot stop, you should regulate." To me, if anyone asked how Singapore is able to thrive economically, politically, and socially, I would say this quote. Yes, as a result of this policy, many people refer to Singapore as the land of fines (fine for not flushing the toilet, fine for chewing gum, fine for spitting, fine for bird feeding), but 30 minutes in the city and you can easily see how successful its been. Admittedly, we were a little worried when we first landed in Singapore, making sure we didn't have any gum or food on us lest we be arrested for corrupting this otherwise clean and beautiful country. But just like when the teacher tells you the rules on the first day of class, over time it just becomes natural. You see a parking lot with a spotless floor that I could absolutely eat off of and you realize you'd choose that over gum any day.

When we first arrived, after dropping our stuff off at our hostel in Little India, we set off to explore the city. After some aimless wandering (and a slurpee in hand, have I mentioned Julia's obsession with love of slurpees?) we ended up at Marina Bay, which is where most of what you know about Singapore is located; the crazy architecture that seems to be there only to give Singapore an interesting skyline, the infinity pool, the giant ship at the top of three connected buildings, the largest ferris wheel in the world (which is about to be beaten by the newest wonder nearing completion in Vegas), the upside down light trees, the DNA bridge (okay maybe you don't know about that last one, but it's pretty cool nonetheless). It's absolutely stunning, and as I stood on the DNA bridge and looked out at the building that looks like a banana bunch to me, it looked absolutely pointless. And that's why I love it. Singapore is a place that is beautiful and weird just because it wants to be. Every building is a statement because why not? If we're going to make a theater, let's make it shaped like two durians. If we have to build a bridge, why not make it all swirly and loopy? Yay architecture! Louise, you'd fall in love with it.

So the way we saw it, there are two ways to do Singapore: 1. Spend zero money and walk around and be done in about a day or 2. Buy an iVenture card and actually see some sites while still saving money. Since it was going to be Julia's birthday, we opted for version 2, which meant our days were about to be packed. Julia absolutely loves doing research and figuring out the best ways to save money and most efficient ways to get around. I love that she likes that because I absolutely hate doing that. Thanks to her and her impeccable timing, we had jam packed days that were perfectly timed to the minute and all uncannily worked out. Day two started with the Singapore Flyer. Actually let's go back a bit more, day two started with 6 pieces of toast apiece and two eggs. You see, Singapore is an expensive place. It's a very expensive place. Yes it's still technically less expensive than America, but when you're on a Thai wage (read close to America's poverty line) and you have to spend money on food, shelter, and transportation in addition to any sites or extras, we really had to dig deep. Unfortunately for us, food is one of the first things that we're willing to sacrifice when it comes to saving money. We figured we could stuff ourselves with the free breakfasts that our hostel provided and then come lunch we would eat the trail mix that we packed. That way we'd only be spending money at dinner time, when we'd hopefully be buying the cheapest meal we could find. So day two began with enough food to last us until at least 1pm that day (by the way our plan totally worked if you ignore the fact that we probably lost an additional 5 pounds). Because we started so early in the morning, nobody was in the Singapore Flyer and it was awesome. An entire booth to ourselves as we ran around and took pictures and had an amazing birds eye view of such an aesthetically pleasing place. One of my favorite views was that of the soccer field that juts out over the water (the pictures will do it better justice). The coolest soccer field I've ever seen, though Julia said it was a bit excessive (and I'll admit she's right. But again, refer back to previous statement about being beautiful and weird just because they can). Our next stop after that was the Bird Park, which actually turned out to be pretty fun and interactive. Singapore's already famous for its three zoos (jungle cruise, night safari, and zoo) and the bird park was no lower standard. We even got to go into the breeding area where they had baby flamingos and the ugliest baby I've ever seen, a baby white cockatoo. Birds aren't just the ugliest babies of any species, they're downright horrifying. I'd like to apologize to any bird people out there reading this.

Next came Snow City, which is nothing like this and actually exactly this. Don't let the angle of the picture fool you, it's the size of a large living room with one giant ice hill. Of course we knew this going into it, what with Her Highness of Research over here, but considering that we've been living in a city with highs of 110°F and an average of 90°F for over a year, the idea of playing around in fake snow for an hour or two was incredibly appealing. It was hilariously terrible. It's the kind of place where when you first walk up, the sign is falling apart and faded. Like the flickering neon Tower of Terror sign, except in the day time rather than being spooky and intimidating, it's just sketchy and puny. Considering no one in their right mind owns any kind of clothing for cold weather, when you get there you can rent ski pants, a snow jacket, gloves, socks, and snow boots. As I said, it's mostly about the one giant ice hill that you can go down on a tube, so we did that for a few rounds. Since we were again amongst a mere handful of individuals occupying the space, the photographer took a picture of us on every single ride. We eventually discovered an igloo and spent the rest of our time making snow angels and having snow fights (but since we were too cheap to rent gloves, that involved pulling our sleeves over our hands and scooping up as much snow as we could before our fingers went numb). I should mention also that the snow is not snow-like at all. I would say it was the consistancy of sand, except it was ice, but when you touch it, it doesn't melt. Next to Snow City is the Science Center, which is huge. We unfortunately had to rush through the place so that we could get back in time to make a tour that was also part of the iVenture card, but we still got to do plenty of fun interactive sciencey things, like making a stop motion video and finding out what a composite of our faces looks like (i.e. our child). A bus and a metro back to Chinatown and we were able to make a quick visit to the MINT Museum of Toys. The Toy Museum was odd in that it was a great museum with a wide-ranging and interesting collection, it has great advertising and online presence, and it's clearly won numerous awards, but it was weirdly lacking in a way that I can't describe. Perhaps it's the odd location or just the fact that clearly not many people really visit the place, but maybe the biggest reason is that it was clearly a museum made with love and passion for collecting old toys, but it's such a specific and unique hobby that most of us probably don't understand or share the same feelings for the collection.

Our next stop, and one I was really looking forward to, was the "Secrets of the Red Lantern" tour, which is as it sounds. I haven't really been on too many tours in foreign countries but I'm certain the tour guide is really what makes or breaks the tour. We had an adorable tour guide who told jokes and stories like about how she was in Geylang, which is where one of Singapore's red light districts is located, eating dinner with her husband when one of the ladies of the night ran up and asked in Cantonese, "Can I borrow your husband?" Because it turns out the police were doing a raid of the area. Though there is a specific designated zone, the multitude of regulations makes it so there are inevitably a handful of women who carry out their job in that area but outside of the law. For example, women are not allowed to solicit on the street; they must stay inside of a designated building. Also, all women have to get monthly checkups and carry a card on them at all times that says that they are healthy and clean. Women (other than these women) are not allowed inside the buildings at all because if there is a random police raid and any woman inside the premise is found without the card, the whole business can get shut down. The Red Light District in Geylang is so extensive that some houses in the area that aren't brothels specifically have a sign over their door that says "Private Residence" after receiving too many unwanted visitors (I just think that's hilarious). Our final activity of the day was a boat tour of the Quays, which--despite the drunken Japanese businessmen hitting on us, falling down, stumbling around, and generally being drunk Japanese businessmen--was actually quite beautiful. I told you how awesome the Singapore skyline is during the day, well it's even better lit up on the water at night.

With that, we had officially gone to 7 FREE things on our iVenture card. It was an incredibly packed day that was timed perfectly and really couldn't have gone any better.

I still have to cover Days 3 and 4 in Singapore (which include's Julia's birthday!), but I'm going to post this for now so that we can all calm down about the pending blog entry. ;)

Cambodia Through Pictures

From L to R: Ariel, Julia, Sarah, Haleigh in front of one of the faces of Bayon

Angkor Wat just after sunrise

An example of anastylosis. The original on the left and a recreation on the right.

A great picture by Julia at the Killing Fields in Phnom Penh

The bracelets at the Killing Fields

Some of the sculptures inside Wat Phnom

One of the classrooms turned crude jail cells in S-21

No caption necessary here.

Adorable kitty gets pets

Jules and I with our 3-day passes to the temples!

More adorable puppies being adorable

Courtesy of Sarah's camera.

As you can see, I loved Bayon. Also Sarah's picture.

I like Sarah's pictures

At the rally for candidate 4 (Credit: Sarah)

Credit: Haleigh

Julia being silly at the Royal Palace

Capturing ancient with modern. Looking more and more like an Indiana Jones movie set to me.

Trying to depict the emptiness that is the Killing Fields

School turned prison

Julia's great picture of the skulls inside the stupa

Credit: Haleigh

Staaaaiiirsss

Tarantula in threatening position (Credit: Sarah)

Plastic bag o' spiders

Credit: Sarah

I also made a video of the trip just for fun if you want to check it out:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntDbbCyrf_8&feature=youtu.be

Cambodia

Julia and I have lived in Thailand for almost a year, which means that we're starting to have repeat experiences (like the school Sports Day that's coming up, which I'll save for another entry). It's crazy to think that we're coming up on our second birthdays and second holiday season here. This also means that I may start repeating things in my entries that I'm not sure I've said before. So forgive me for anything that's been said a thousand times already. And with the usual disclaimer, Cambodia here we come!

Fortunately or unfortunately, flights to virtually anywhere in the world are cheaper out of Bangkok than Chiang Mai. As a result, most out of country trips involve a 12 hour bus or train ride down to BKK, and while it's apparently the world's most visited city, it's actually not a fun place to be if you 1. Don't live there or 2. Have been there before. And 1. is just me throwing Bangkok a bone because even that is a bit of a mystery to me (I'd like to emphasize that this is also an extremely biased view of someone who has lived in Chiang Mai for a year now, which is scenery that is completely the opposite of Bangkok's bustling city environment). Many of us here in CM have independently come to the conclusion that the only thing to do in Bangkok during the time between the arrival of our bus and the departure of our plane is to stay in the air-conditioned shopping malls, possibly seeing a movie. But even that is a hassle because the buses don't drop you off anywhere convenient, like near the metro. You have to take a taxi to get to the main part of the city. Additionally, the cheaper of the two airports in Bangkok is about an hour outside of the city center, which of course is where the malls are. So the idea of taking a taxi then metro to get to a shopping mall at 6 am after a groggy night's bus sleep was quite unappealing when we could just take a cheaper taxi to the airport and sleep/eat/rest there. Hence, the beginning of our Cambodia trip was spent sleeping, eating, and resting in a remote part of the airport until we could finally check in 3 hours prior to our flight. We also played around with the slow motion video on my camera, which makes everything seem either majestic, weird, or gross. We touched into Phnom Penh around 5 pm and were immediately consumed by the political rally for candidate number 4 (Cambodian People's Party), which included a lot of blue, a lot of cheering, crazy motorbike driving, and large groups of people standing in the truck beds of moving trucks. Even though Julia informed me that we'd be traveling there during the week of the elections, I soon realized how little I knew about the current politics of Cambodia, something I made sure to amend later with some trusty googling and conversations with a local. After securing a fairly cheap hostel, we set off to find a delicious dinner, which didn't take long since there was an awesome street food/restaurant combo right on our corner. Julia and I ordered the barbecue, which tasted oddly sweet. Jules summed it up perfectly when halfway through the meal she realized it tasted like beef dipped in pancake syrup. We also tried one of the local beers, Angkor, which admittedly tastes exactly like all other local beers in all of Southeast Asia. A good night's rest and the next morning was a tuktuk tour of Phnom Penh.

The day started off heavy with a trip to The Killing Fields, which are about half an hour outside the city. An audio tour really helped me to attempt to grasp what it may have felt like to be a political prisoner brought here in the '70s. Something I have to constantly remind myself is that some of the harrowing history we learn about today hasn't happened that long ago. It's difficult not to feel pain or regret when I'm only one generation away from the time when this was occurring. The tour through the field was mostly empty save for the signs and structures that were added when the area became a memorial site. When I say empty, I mean that it is mostly nature and trees, rather than buildings or pathways. This is perhaps the most chilling part; knowing that there was and still are thousands upon thousands of unidentified bodies piled into mass graves, and nothing else. The one building the prisoners were housed in when there were too many people and not enough executions was quickly torn down after the fall of the Khmer Rouge. I realized it's easier to commemorate something with something else; a statue, a building, a museum. But it's so difficult to understand and to acknowledge when the reminder is that there is nothing there. Not only are you surrounded by emptiness, you are also surrounded by nature, a conflicting feeling of beauty and pain.

Though the fields are pretty far away from the nearby town, there were still farmers around the area. That, and the fact that guns and ammunition were expensive during the war, meant that the soldiers used other methods to execute the prisoners, including blunt weapons, axes, thorns from branches of trees, trees themselves, you name it. And to avoid the neighbors' suspicions, they played music over loud speakers to cover up the screams and cries of the people. At one point during the tour, they play the sound of a generator paired with the sound of the music they most likely heard while they were unknowingly waiting for their death. That was the second most chilling part of the journey for me. As an auditory person, that sound was all I needed to make me feel like I was there, cramped in a cold dark room, wondering my fate and the fate of my family, and all for what? For being an academic? For being falsely accused by a neighbor? For breathing? The tour also reminds us that we may think it could never happen in our country today, but they never thought it could happen in Cambodia either. As with anything, it starts slow and picks up speed. What begins as an attempt by the government and the people to improve the economy eventually becomes a "weeding out" of anyone who doesn't "support the cause," which leads down a chaotic and dangerous path. We learned that there were a handful of foreigners amongst the prisoners as well; another connection that makes it all the more difficult to process what occurred there. Finally, a haunting image that I had difficulty getting through, was that of the Killing Tree, which executioners used as a post against which they'd beat young children and babies. They would grab them by the ankles, swing, and then toss them into a nearby mass grave. Even typing this makes me shake a little, perhaps moreso now than when I was there, because it's just too much for the brain to process. Too much pain to know that this happened and that you are standing where it happened. Throughout the site, there are bracelets made of thread or beads. I'm not sure where all of them come from, but I had one on my wrist for quite a while that I received from a monk in a wat in Chiang Mai. It somehow never fell off after almost a year. I felt that was where I should leave it. So I hung it on the tree with the rest of them. My small prayer. My acknowledgement. There are still many pieces of clothing, bones, and items left to be discovered around the site. While some graves have been excavated, some remain undisturbed. About 5,000 of the skulls that were found are now inside of a multi-leveled memorial stupa, organized by gender and age. A sign on the outside reading, "Would you please kindly show your respect to many million people who were killed under the genocidal Pol Pot Regime." One of the final facts they tell you in the journey is that Pol Pot went on to live a long, healthy, and happy life. Unlike a handful of the guards who are being prosecuted for their crimes, Pol Pot himself never had to feel remorse or truly face consequences for his leadership of a mass genocide in his own country. It hurts to hear someone who has directly suffered from the Khmer Rouge tell you about their loss and Pol Pot's gain. Yet another bitter pill to swallow.

A quick lunch at a nearby restaurant, some iced coffee, and we were soon on our way back to the city to go to the Security Prison S-21, a school that was taken over by the Khmer Rouge, turned into a prison, and is now a genocide museum open to the public. Since the prison was a former high school, it was even more eerie walking down the halls that were once filled with children learning. Some of the levels had rooms that were turned into crude jail cells made of brick or concrete blocks. There is an exercise bar in the courtyard of the school that was turned into a torture device to get the prisoners to confess to their crimes. Like the Salem witch trials of the 17th century, anyone could accuse anyone and the torture was designed to force people to confess for crimes that they probably didn't commit. Another unsettling part of the genocide was the letters that prisoners were forced to write. A section of the museum contains booklets of copies of letters from prisoners that all follow the same construct: True facts about the person's birth and life, including information about their parents and where they lived. Then about why they were in Cambodia and what they were doing at the time they were arrested. And only the last paragraph or line or word, it will say something relating to how they are a part of the CIA or how they planned to overtake the Pol Pot Regime. Perhaps the strangest one for me was that of an Australian expat who was arrested and most likely taken to the Killing Fields. His letter talks about his parents and his loved ones, how he lived in San Diego and moved to Los Angeles. It describes a life that could have been my own and only at the very end, as its own paragraph, it says CIA agent number 324 (I made up the number, but you get the point). It made it that much clearer about how the Khmer Rouge forced these "confessions" out of people. Many of the foreigners who went through S-21 were merely traveling on a boat to somewhere else when they accidentally drifted into Cambodian waters. Of all the prisoners that went through Tuol Sleng, only 12 are known to have survived. Because of the extensive record keeping of every prisoner, there were many, many, many pictures lining the walls of the museum, every one as anonymous as the last.

Thankfully, the weight of these two sites was gradually lifted off of us as our next stop was the royal palace, which looked a lot like Bangkok's royal palace. It was filled with the usual gilded throne halls, libraries, silver-lined floors, shrines, and artfully detailed architecture. As it started to thunderstorm when we were here, we decided to cut our journey short and finish the tour the next day.

Refreshed from a night of margaritas and delicious food, we set out the following morning to Wat Phnom which is on "a tree-covered knoll" that is "the only hill in town." I love any place that is called a knoll. When does a knoll become a hill? We'll never know. Though I've seen my fair share of wats/temples/mosques by now, this beautiful, cozy wat actually had a little uniqueness to offer, my favorite being the sculptures of Buddha inside.

From here, the combination of getting slightly lost and being incredibly cheap meant a 2 hour walk to finally arrive at one of my favorite parts of our Phnom Penh trip: Eating tarantulas. The restaurant, Romdeng, is part of the TREE alliance and Friends International which sets out to train street children in the art of hospitality, cooking, and all skills needed in running a restaurant. I got more and more excited as I learned about the various components of the program, which is extremely successful and only getting bigger. I'm going to go on a quick side-rant here because programs like TREE, Friends, and Global Medical Brigades (which I had the opportunity to participate in while in college) have always reminded me of exactly what I want to do with my life. It's something that I haven't otherwise been able to explain and it's also something that's not easy to find. Learning about self-sustaining programs that work to improve the lives of communities, not by coming in and telling them what's what, but by working with them and through them to better them. I never find myself more inspired or more excited than I do when I hear or talk about these successful programs that implement innovative and genius strategies to get communities interested and be successful in revolutionizing a city or country for the better. Again, difficult to explain, but at 22, I'm happy to have even the vaguest ideas of where I'd like to go in my career.

Okay, back to the spiders. You can order the fried tarantulas, or you can get a salad with red ants. Opting for the crazier choice, the four of us readied our stomachs and our minds to consume something I never thought I'd learn the taste of. If you're more of a Type B and don't desire to do this yourself, but kind of wonder what it's like, it tastes like french fries that are a little bit fuzzy. It's actually pretty good, if one can overcome the fact that they're eating a tarantula. Of course right after we ate them, the waiter came out with a live one, which, when I held it in my hand, immediately went into a stance that looked really threatening. Maybe it smelled its brother on my breath? (ew) As if that wasn't enough, after we asked where they get the tarantulas from (we were debating about whether they caught them or bred them themselves), he asked if we wanted to see. And that is how I found myself staring at a plastic bag filled to the brim with creepy crawly hairy live tarantulas. Just a plastic bag. With tarantulas. That are about to be cooked and eaten. If I could only keep two memories of Cambodia, this would be one of them (the second, if you haven't guessed already, would be Angkor Wat, but that's a different story for a different city).

At night was when we finally got to see the main opposition party to CPP (number 4), which is candidate number 7, the Cambodian National Rescue Party. Meeting up with a friend of a friend who was born and raised in Phnom Penh, we learned a lot more about what the two parties mean to the people. CPP has been the ruling party of Cambodia for about 30 years now and has been successful in uniting the country and moving forward. That being said, the CNRP is the Obama of Cambodia. In fact, their main motto is "Change or no change? Change!" The CNRP is more likely to be supported by the youth, who have not had to feel the pain of having a regime in power that destroys your people from the inside out, and feel that change is what will spark the economy and create jobs for the people. The CPP is more likely to be supported by the elderly, who rightfully feel that it has been good and stable, so let's keep it that way. We also learned that the CPP is government funded, and people who rally for them get tons of free swag to support the campaign. CNRP on the other hand is only supported by the people, which explained why they had much fewer t-shirts, hats, flags, and, well, people driving around on motorbikes. At the end of the day, I'd probably be voting for 7.

And here we set out to Siem Reap with a morning bus ride through the lusciously green countryside. [Side note: Siem Reap means "Siam defeated" in Cambodian. That's just hilarious to me. A big middle finger to good old Thailand.] The bus ride also included some Cambodian TV, which involved a lot of people talking on stage and pulling really weird stunts that usually made fun of children. For example, I spent 5 minutes watching two kids break dance and then freeze when the music stopped and the host would put them in embarrassing positions, often with sexual innuendos. 5 minutes of that was enough for me. Since pretty much every person traveling through Cambodia either goes from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap or vice versa, many hostels have connections in both cities. It's one of those systems that is set up to hook a tourist from the start, but it's not actually shady or annoying. Everybody wins. So we had a tuktuk waiting for us at Siem Reap to take us to the sister hostel of the one we stayed at in Phnom Penh and since Siem Reap is the size of a thimble, the location was perfect (it takes about 5 minutes to walk just about anywhere in the city). Our trip to the supermarket for snacks and water was what led us to discover the glory of cheese cupcakes. Yes. Cheese cupcakes. Now I don't know if you're the type of person who's immediate reaction is intrigue or disgust, but 3 of the 4 of us on this trip responded immediately with the former. Which is why I can tell you now that they taste like the best version of a synthetic cheesecake topped cheese frosting filled vanilla cupcake that you'll ever have. Also, alcohol is incredibly cheap in Siem Reap. The lowest prices we've seen in all of Southeast Asia. I was half tempted to buy a Corona (oh how I miss those), but resisted and stuck with the local Ankor beer.

With the multitude of tour books, tour guides, and sites on the internet talking about the Angkor Temples, it's easy to get overwhelmed by all of the stories and suggestions of the best way to explore Angkor, including the time of day (Should you see the sunrise or sunset? Which temples should you go to for each? Should you try to avoid the times when all the tour groups will be there? What about cloudy days?), the order you should see the temples in (Should you jump in head first and go straight for the Angkor Wat? Or should you start small and build up to it?), the transport you should use (Should you do the small circuit by bike and the big circuit by tuktuk? Should you get a tuktuk in town or hire one later on?), right down to what you should wear (Are these ruins or active temples? Should I bring footwear I can climb in? What about shorts are those okay?). Times like these I remind myself that a little bit of planning is good, but sometimes it's better to let things fall where they may. Luckily for me, that's exactly how it happened. I finally decided that it would be best to start small and get big (I got this idea from the time I went to Six Flags Magic Mountain with my friends who had season passes and they took me from the smallest ride to the biggest and the day ended up being the best ever), because after seeing Angkor Wat, I'm sure every other wat will be uneventful and small. As I mentioned, there's a small circuit and a big circuit. Since Angkor Wat is on the small circuit, which can be biked to, the next decision was obvious: We'll take a tuktuk tomorrow for the temples on the big circuit, then do the early morning bike ride to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat on the small circuit. The group was on board and I think it turned out to be a great plan.

You can buy a 1-day, 3-day or 1-month pass to the wats. The pass is super official and includes your picture. Coming from someone who loves to collect movie stubs, this was an awesome souvenir. I won't go into too many details about each temple itself, since that can be looked up online. Instead, I'll describe what it was like to visit all the temples in general. One of my favorite parts about the temples of Angkor is that every single one is different from the last. There are some that are high above ground and look out upon green trees and forest. Others remain on the ground but are covered by the shade of the trees and have more of an Indiana Jones feel to them. Some have huge pathways that are lined with immense sculptures that tell stories with their expressions alone. And still others are surrounded by water, an oasis of history. With no two temples alike, it's easy to get lost in the ruins, imagining buildings where there's rubble, climbing on stones that represent years of an ancient history of kings and battles. With multiple rulers and varying religions taking over the area, some temples will have a Buddha that was added later. One of my favorites include the Lingas, which are a phallic representation of the Hindu deity Shiva. One of these replaced a sacred Buddha in the temples. My other favorite is the god who had an appetite so ravenous, he ate his own body. His face is often seen above the entrance or exit of the walkways. And lastly I love the apsaras, which are mostly prominent on Angkor Wat itself, more than 3000 unique "heavenly nymphs" with a multitude of hairstyles.

After the first day, we went back to the city to get some "Traditional Cambodian Massages" which is about as much of a marketing ploy as any "Traditional (insert Southeast Asian country here) Massages." It ended up being a woman kind of doing whatever on our backs, legs, arms, and neck for an hour. It didn't really seem like they had a plan while they did it but it was still pretty fun because it was the four of us with four Cambodian women all together. So there was a lot of, "Oh do you have a boyfriend?? Why nooot? You are beautiful!" If you are not a girl or if you haven't lived in a foreign country, you should know that, at least in my experience, this is a very common way that locals and expats try to relate to each other when either party knows little of the other party's language.

One thing that comes with tourism is locals trying to sell you things. Depending on my mood, I either feel frustrated that such relics are being taken over by modern-day consumerism, or intrigued by the idea that, though these temples were once sacred, they're now something I can freely roam around in as someone who has no relation whatsoever to their history, and that comes with people trying to make a living. At the end of the one of the temples was a group of children, about 5-8 years old, with their trays of postcards, keychains, and other kitschy items. One of the girls came up to me and in what seemed like one breath, asked if I wanted to buy postcards and proceeded to count to me in English, French, and Spanish. When I tried to turn her down, she asked if I wanted to play tic-tac-toe in the dirt with her. She was one of the more persistent children and it was clear that she easily gets customers with her cutesy appeal. There were a lot of places in Cambodia that had the children working instead of/in addition to the parents. With a population of almost 40% under the age of 14 and 60-70% under the age of 30, the amount of children in general is astounding. I felt an immediate response of feeling like these children should be in school instead of working; the immediate white man's burden of witnessing child labor and wanting to change it. But I realized that I probably have it backwards. Not only are these kids getting real-world experience in the field of tourism and hospitality, they're doing it in 4 languages. They know more at age 5 than I probably do now. Not only that, but it's clear they aren't suffering it all. In some cases, they obviously enjoy it. They've learned by now how to choose someone to sell to, how to schmooze them into buying your items, and how to make a profit. If anything, Cambodia's figured it out more than much of India has. The children of India can fend for themselves, but in a very different way; one that involves more begging than working. And sometimes it felt like Cambodia was happier because of it. Their poverty does not mean they're struggling to have things, they're just trying to have nicer things. They don't need a roof and some food, they just want a TV and maybe some toys. It's poverty, but it's different poverty.

The next morning we left around 4 am on $2 bikes we rented the night before in order to make the sunrise coming over Angkor Wat. This may have been one of the crazier things I've done, since the bikes didn't have lights or reflectors, and sometimes the road didn't either, and it was definitely still very dark outside. Luckily the route is as easy as it gets, go down the street and straight on 'til morning. It took us about 40 minutes to get there and we made it just as the sky started to get a little lighter blue. And though the road was fairly empty during the ride, when we got there, as my dad always says, "Heeeeere's everybody." There were probably about 150 people or so, but this is during the low season. I easily imagined what it could look like during the peak of traveling season. We got some street sandwiches (isn't it great when the French occupied a place? Always delicious food left behind) reminiscent of Vietnam and made our way to a lake in front of the main entrance to the Wat. We've had a few, "Get up for the sunrise you don't want to miss it" attempts in our lives, Julia more than I, and this one was definitely one of the best, if not THE best I've experienced. The gradual change in color from purple, to midnight blue, to the orange color of the twilight hour (the time when everybody's eyes look as beautiful as they'll ever be, and everybody's skin is a glowing gold color), to the sunny yellow and blue of day. All while the Wat is reflected on the water. The wat itself has an insane amount of detail. Every pillar, stone carving, bas-relief, and ceiling was intricately worked on. My favorite story, and the most popular, was the Churning of the Ocean of Milk, which showed up throughout the temples of Angkor, particularly along the walkways to the entrances (gods on one side, demons on the other). The Bayon, another wat that's part of the small circuit is awesome (used in its original sense) in its own right. It's covered in faces pieced together with the stone and makes you feel like you are in a Tomb Raider/Indiana Jones movie. We hung out on the third tier for a bit, people watching the weird tourists and snacking on pineapples.

I mentioned before that no two temples were the same, but if I had to pick one common thread that united them all it was so. many. stairs. It felt like the stairs kept getting steeper too. For some of them I had to use my hands to climb my way up. Each temple has at least two levels, but more often three or four. Angkor Thom, which is North of Angkor Wat, was once a bustling city, which means it has an endless amount of buildings that you get to walk up and down. With the bike ride there, the walking, the STAIRS, and the bike ride home, I had had enough exercise to last me for some time, and the legs of a Tour de France champion. Since the temples in Angkor are a UNESCO world heritage site, there has been a lot of restoration to reinforce the structure as well as recreate some of the sculptures to show how they may have looked when the temples were in their prime. They're using a method called anastylosis (in Greek, "to erect again") which restores/reconstructs a ruin by using the materials that were used at the time it was built, or the closest thing to it. It's a compromise between not rebuilding at all and rebuilding completely so that nothing resembles what it would be today. I have to say I highly approve of the process. Every once in a while there will be a statue that is in ruins on one side and its counterpart will have been restored. You get to walk on the ruins while easily imagining what the site once was.

That evening we set out to explore the Siem Reap night life which consisted of a lot of 50 cent beer and briefly entering but quickly avoiding places like Angkor What? Which is a bar that sports the motto "Promoting irresponsible drinking since 1998" and has artwork that is just graffiti all over its walls. Definitely a backpacker's heaven.

The next day we were able to explore the town a bit more and do some shopping. Some places on the outskirts of town have the same annoying vendors constantly yelling for the 5 minutes it takes you to pass them, "Hey lady! You buy my stuff! Lady! I have bags for you!" But once you get into the main market area, you can quietly wander the aisles to find the usual t-shirts, trinkets, and gaudy jewelry.

I hope I didn't miss anything! While writing this entry I made sure to go back and enter any details I could remember along the way, so you definitely got a thorough entry. And there you have it, my take on our Cambodia trip.

What's Happening Now

Every time I go to blog, I've tried finishing up our Vietnam trip, but it's been slow going and I wanted to give updates about how things are going right now for us. Plus, I miss writing/story-telling in general.

The school year has started and we're now in our fourth week of teaching. As you know, Thailand's school system breaks down into Prathom 1-6 (equivalent to grades 1st-6th), Lower Mattayom 1-3 (equivalent to 7th-9th), and Upper Mattayom 4-6 (equivalent to 10th-12th). Julia and I co-teach Mattayom 1 (which was coincidental; originally I was supposed to teach Upper Mattayom, but we walked in the first day of orientation and found out we were both teaching M1). We teach 10 classes twice a week. The time slot for each class is supposed to be 50 minutes, but of course the Thai way makes it so assemblies end late and other teachers let out their classes late so that class can end up being cut to be as short as 20 minutes. Luckily, this has made us more adaptable. We can now come up with lessons that can still work in a 20 minute time period or can be expanded to fill the full 50 minutes. Unlike in America, the children's have classrooms and it's the teachers that move from class to class. This is incredibly inconvenient because if we ever have any supplies (our main one usually being a Powerpoint), we have to carry it and take time to set it up in each classroom. This includes hoping the computer works, hoping the monitor works, hoping it recognizes our flash drive, hoping the projector turns on (trying to get a student to stand on a desk with a broom handle to physically turn the projector on, since there's supposedly a remote, but it's impossible to find), and hoping the keyboard and/or mouse work so that we can open and actually use our Powerpoint. It's an adventure every time. Unlike our other school, the classes don't seem to be organized according student intellect. It's supposedly random, but there are definitely classes where it seems students are of similar caliber. For the most part, we only have three classes that are troublesome and difficult. This does however change from week to week, depending on the time of day and how the students are feeling. Our favorite classes (1/7 and 1/9) are ideal in every way. Lessons go perfectly and we always leave them feeling like we're amazing teachers. For our troublesome classes (1/1 and 1/3), we try to go in with the mindset that we'll be able to teach them, but usually end up hoping we can make it through without losing our voice from trying to talk over them or get them to quiet down. Because we don’t speak Thai, we have had to come up with multiple strategies to communicate to the kids what we want; saying “please quiet down” or “just give me 5 more minutes” makes no sense. And a 7^th grader’s natural reaction is to ignore you and talk to their friend, somebody they do understand. Some of the teachers have tried barking like a dog, which startles them into silence, others have tried implementing a “yellow card,” “red card” system similar to soccer, which ends in a child being ejected from the classroom. Julia and I have started the silence game, which involves the kids being quiet for one full minute. If anyone talks, the clock starts over. We believe that part of the reason some of the classes can’t be quiet is because they don’t quite know what quiet means. They think they can’t be heard or seen so if they continue to talk to their friends, it won’t interrupt the class. So if we convey what actual silence sounds like, then they’ll remain actually quiet for the lesson. This surprisingly works, though it takes up about 5-10 minutes of class time, since it takes four or five attempts before the kids can be quiet for a full minute. Unfortunately, we’ll probably have to come up with something new soon since I have a feeling this will wear off.

Outside of school, Jules and I have been going on lots of Chiang Mai adventures. One of the things that makes Chiang Mai such a great place to live is all of the wonderful things that are just an hour or two away right outside the city. There’s a great rock climbing site that was built and is maintained by Chiang Mai Rock Climbers. It’s a beautiful area that definitely makes me want to pick up rock climbing as a hobby. We’ve also been to Huay Tung Tao lake, which is a great relaxation picnic area. We have a membership (which is really just a buy 9 get the 10^th free punch card) for a swimming pool. There’s also the floating houses, which is exactly as it sounds, where people eat, drink, and are merry in a house on the water. Some other things I’m looking forward to are the botanical gardens, the hot springs, Mae Sa Waterfall, the Golden Triangle, and other beautiful scenic routes and hikes. We’re going to start taking Thai language classes soon, which I’m super excited about because as I’ve said before, it’s near impossible to learn the language by just listening to it and trying to pick it up. We also volunteer at a nearby dog shelter, Care For Dogs, though we haven’t been able to stop by in a while since we can only go on weekends and things have been hectic with the school year starting up.

It's monsoon season now, which is actually really fun, both getting caught in the rain (depending on where we're coming from) and being inside while it storms outside. Plus the nights are a cool 85 degrees sometimes.

Our big break will be in October and Julia are deciding whether we should go home (since it will have been over a year since we’ve visited America) or travel to more countries in Southeast Asia. We’ve also talked about our various plans for after this year, since if either of us are looking into grad school, we have to start researching, taking the GRE, and applying soon.

I’m sure there are things I’ve forgotten, but I hope this gives you somewhat of an idea of how/where we are now. J